


Not That Kind of Doctor

by classicallybookish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brief Mention of Blood, F/M, Fluff, Unrequited Crush, cursing, mostly fluff and feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classicallybookish/pseuds/classicallybookish
Summary: Prompt: "You need to see a doctor."
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Female Reader, Bruce Banner/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Not That Kind of Doctor

_Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it._

Your breath was ragged, mostly because you were trying not to openly scream as the wound in your thigh was gushing blood.

_Don’t panic, you’re fine, just find a first aid kit._

Stumbling into the garage of the Avengers Compound, you lean against a vehicle to take a breather. You were scared to take a look at your leg. Ya see, there was a reason you never became a doctor or nurse. The sight of blood almost always made you woozy. The sight of A LOT of blood, however…

The steady stream of blood trickling down your leg weakened your knees. Bracing yourself against the car, you slowly slid to the ground. _Now if I fall over I won’t have severe brain damage._

“Okay, think. You can’t sit here bleeding. Going somewhere is out. So someone will have to come to me.” Talking aloud was the only way you could keep the panic at bay and organize your thoughts. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Are there any doctors or medics on site?”

“No, everyone has returned home for the night.”

You groan, whether out of frustration or pain, you didn’t know.

“Are you in danger, miss? Shall I alert the team? Or the authorities?”

“Who’s here?”

“The entire team, Miss. Although Dr. Banner is the only one awake.”

You close your eyes and sigh. Literally anyone else would be preferable. Bruce Banner, coming to your rescue and saving the day? An absolute dream, a true fantasy of yours. You being forced to be vulnerable and in pain (and probably whiny) in front of your crush of over a year? You’d rather bleed out.

But then you see your hands covered in blood from keeping pressure on your wound. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., ask Dr. Banner to come to the garage. And tell him to hurry.”

“Yes, Miss.” A few beats passed before the AI activated again. “Miss, I let him know you were in distress and that he should bring a first aid kit. He asked me to wake the Avengers because he believes you’re in danger. Is that how you wish to proceed?”

“No! No, don’t do that. I’ll be fine, I just need his help.”

“Very well. He will be there in three minutes.”

Those three minutes were agony. You were getting more light-headed by the second and you hoped against hope that you wouldn’t pass out.

You’re on full alert when a door slams open, followed by Bruce yelling your name.

“I’m over here,” you called, the pain evident in your voice.

Bruce rounds the vehicle and finds you slumped against one of the tires.

“Shit, what happened? Are you okay?!” He was beside you in a flash, a hand beneath your chin to get you to look up at him. He was frazzled to say the least. His hair was standing on end and his glasses were askew. “Where is everyone, I told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get everyone going.”

“And I told her not to. I’m okay, I’m just a dumbass.” Bruce tore off his lab coat and pressed it to your wound, bringing a hiss out of you at the extra pressure. Your head spun when red bloomed on the pure-white fabric. “And I’m a bit of a baby about blood.”

“You mean, we aren’t under attack or anything?” Bruce feverishly looked around, waiting for a criminal or thug to jump around a corner.

“No, Bruce.” He lifted his coat to get a better look at the gash. “How bad is it?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“You need to see a doctor.”

“You _are_ a doctor.”

“Not _that_ kind of doctor!”

“Come on, you took care of people when you were in Calcutta, right?”

Bruce opens and closes his mouth several times. “I-well-yeah, but - infectious diseases and trauma are very different things.”

“I trust you, Bruce. You’ve had to have sewn a stitch at least once in your life.”

He stares at you for a solid 30 seconds before he mumbles “Fine,” under his breath.

“Talk to me, tell me what happened.” He uses the coat to wipe away excess blood, most of which had stopped flowing.

“I was an idiot,” you lean your head against the vehicle in an attempt to steady yourself. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a jog.” You watch as Bruce meticulously rifles through the first aid kid to get the necessary items to fix you up.

“I strayed from the path and tripped over a tree root. I fell super hard and landed on a fallen branch and it kind of… went into my leg.”

Bruce’s head snaps up, “And you took it out?! That’s like first aid 101, that always makes bleeding worse!”

“Well I wasn’t going to walk around with a tree hanging out of my leg!” You yelled defensively. “Besides, I didn’t realize it was more than a scratch until the blood trickled down my shin.”

Bruce leaned closer to examine your leg. It wasn’t until that moment that you realized just how close he was to you, how gently he was touching you. “I don’t see anything left in the wound.”

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage. _How are you thinking about romance right now?_

Bruce unscrewed the antiseptic, leveling you with an authoritative look á la Captain America. “A, jogging at night by yourself is dangerous. B, the walking trail is always lit. This is exactly why you should stay on it.” With that, he poured the disinfectant over your leg.

“SHIT, that stings!” you hiss, clutching at Bruce’s arm out of reflex.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he coos with so much empathy that the tears already in your eyes spill over. He softly blows air into the cut, soothing the burn ever so slightly. “Better?” he asks, looking up at you over his glasses.

You nod, embarrassed but grateful for his kind touch. “I’m afraid it’s about to get worse.” He pulls out the suture kit and threads the needle. Pausing, he looks you in the eyes. “Are you sure you want me to do this? It’s not going to be pretty.”

“Because I’m notorious for showing off my legs,” you attempt at a joke. One side of his mouth quirks up, which you would find adorable if you weren’t in so much pain. “Besides, there aren’t any other convenient options.”

Brice sighs, looking more reluctant than you’ve ever seen.

“You know the concept of not looking down when you’re doing something frightening at a major height?”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t look down and witness my sloppy stitches, okay? I’ll try to be as fast as I can.”

The moment the needle first pierced your skin, you grabbed the back of Bruce’s shirt, trying your best not to dig your fingernails in. You tried to keep quiet, but the pain was too much - a few sharp cries escaped you.

“You’re doing great, I’m almost done. Hang on for me, okay?” Your head dropped to his shoulder which your tears ended up dampening. “Aaaaand… done,” he finish the last suture and tied it off, using an antiseptic wipe to get rid of any leftover blood.

You breathe a sigh of relief, leaning almost all of your body weight into Bruce. “Thank you, so much,” you whisper, eyes shut tight.

“You’re welcome. Wish I could’ve done a better job, or convinced you to see a real doctor.”

“So you admit you aren’t a real doctor?”

Looking up, your proximity to each other seems to dawn on him too. His eyes search your face, an intensity covering his features.

But then he chuckles as he takes his glasses off to clean them on his shirttail. “That’s a debate for another day. We need to get you comfortable. Can you stand?”

“One way to find out.” Bruce carried most of your weight as you hobbled to your quarters and into bed.

“Thank you again, Dr. Banner. You saved me a lot of pride and an ER visit tonight.”

“Anytime. You were my best patient by far.” With a wink, he was out the door, leaving you with all kinds of feelings and dreams.


End file.
